Tate and I decided before we even bought our house that since I am part vampire and hate the sun and anything outdoor related, and he has no idea how to clean, nor where anything is located in the house, that I would be in charge of the inside and he would be in charge of the outside. So far, this plan has worked pretty well. I keep the inside passable, and our landscaping is always easy on the eyes. Boom! Compromise.

However, there are days when we maybe don’t feel like doing our part so much. Last Tuesday was one of those days for me.

I don’t work on Tuesdays, so I usually get my much-needed 11+ hours of sleep in, chill out with my bestie (the internet) for a bit, and then do my weekly cleaning. It’s a good process most of the time. Only yesterday, I got everything done except for the kitchen (my least favorite part) and then kind of sat down and never got back up. Like, at all.

At around 10pm Tate went into the kitchen and he and I had the following conversation:

Me: “Babe, will you get me a bowl of cereal?”

Tate: “Yeah. What kind do you want?” (cereal is my jam, we’ve got like five different types at all times)

Me: “Frosted Flakes, please and thanks.”

*Sounds of cabinets and the dishwasher opening and closing*

Tate: “Did you want a plate of cereal?”

Me: “No. What?”

Tate: “Did you want a cup of cereal?”

Me: “Of course not! Are there no bowls?”

Tate: “Did you want a tupperware of cereal?”

Me: “…yes…”

A Tupperware of Frosted Flakes
A Tupperware of Frosted Flakes

So now you’ve learned two new things: Tate is too lazy to wash a bowl, and I’m also too lazy to get up and wash a bowl. It’s sad how many times we have eaten cereal out of tupperware.

But, I mean, as long as I get my cereal I am a happy camper.

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